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I don’t need much of an excuse to stop driving as well. I guess one day I’ll be immune to all of this jade and turquoise shimmering at the base of the cliffs here, to the contrast of it sparkling below the lush grass green of the headland with craggy tors as a distant backdrop. I’m nowhere near immune yet. I see Finn whip out his phone in my rearview mirror and move it like he’s videoing this panorama. He’s setting Willow’s mind at rest, I guess.
And Rae?
He takes it all in too—soaks up this view, only without a phone camera, which I suppose makes sense. He’s an artist, right? I guess that’s why he stares in silence.
I do a bit of staring of my own, only not at the view, then I almost jump out of my skin when Finn taps on my window to give me a thumbs-up. “She’s crying,” he tells me through the glass, but he doesn’t look too sad about that. Happy tears, then. They fuel the next labour-intensive part of my game plan. Sodoes knowing that, yeah, Rae soaked up that view, but his gaze doesn’t end there.
It lands on me and stays, still lingering after I get out of the Land Rover to open a five-bar gate. Before I unlatch it, I mentally shuffle what needs to happen next into order, and the boys join us.
“Noah? Is the arch still in the lower barn?” I point towards the copse of trees hiding that structure. He nods, and Teo’s shoulders straighten when I say, “It takes two men to shift it. Think you can work together to carry it to the headland for me? Then carry out the dance-floor sections?”
“We’ve got it,” Teo rumbles.
The boys climb the gate and run ahead through overgrown grass while I give Finn direction. I’m aware that Rae has climbed the gate too, only he sits astride it. He’s taller than me now, and the view must be even better from up there. I’m still his focus, and I have to resist the urge to check my beard for missed burrs like they’re the only reason for this attention.
Perhaps he spots that. His gaze breaks away as I ask Finn, “See those trees where they’re headed? There are portable bathrooms behind them. And a kids’ play area a bit further on. The paths there all need mowing, but priority number one is mowing one from here to my fairy circle.”
That gets Rae’s attention. “Yourfairy circle?”
He turns back so fast he almost loses his balance on the top bar of the gate. Steadying him is instinctive, an easy save to make, and my hand on his hip is a reminder of when he did the same for me in the bathroom, so I guess we’re even.
It doesn’t feel that way when he slides down from that top bar. He braces against my chest to do that, the contact fleeting. I still feel the whole thing in slow motion, which wrecks my concentration. I end up stuttering, “A circle of my bell tents.”
“Your tents?” he asks quietly, like we’re the only two people here.
He’s the one who slipped so fuck knows why I’m unbalanced, or why it takes Finn repeating a different question for me to pull myself together. “Sorry, Finn, what did you say?”
He points at the marquee. “You said ‘dance floor.’ Is there some kind of sound system here?” The relief I witnessed a few minutes ago fades. “Only the wedding package we booked included a live band. For dancing.” His voice lowers. “Willow really loves to do that.”
Maybe a summer of waking up in the next room to a happy fucker wasn’t wasted. While Finn mows a pathway with the tractor, I get back in the Land Rover to call someone who might help a bride’s big-day dreams rise from disastrous ashes. Rae climbs in beside me, sees the phone in my hand, and makes to get out again until I shake my head.
“You’re okay. This isn’t private.”
I’m making an adjustment to my game plan, that’s all, because that’s what the best coach I ever had always did on the fly. And that’s what I attempt while Rae busies himself with his own phone like he isn’t listening in on what I’m sure we both hear—my call rings and rings before going to voicemail.
I leave a halting message.
“Uh, Rowan? Hey, could you ring me back if you’re free tomorrow and feel like making some noise at a party?” I lower my voice, which is pointless with Rae sitting right beside me, but this part does feel private. “No worries if you’re not feeling it, mate.” My ex-housemate can’t help being shy around crowds. I know all too well the feeling of not living up to public expectations. “Performance pressure is real, yeah?”
I must say that with more feeling than I meant to. In the periphery of my vision, Rae looks up from his phone screen.
His head lowers just as quickly, and I make myself finish.
“A couple of Luke’s old gap-year students were due to get married tomorrow at Glynn Harber but found out today that they lost all their wedding budget. Venue went bust. All they have left of their original plan is getting married in the school chapel. No flowers, no food, not even music. Gotta house the whole lot of guests too, so I’m setting up all my tents.” I’ve got to stop calling them that. “I mean Marc and Stef’s tents.”
Rae’s head lifts again, not hiding that he’s listening.
“But even a loan of some speakers would help a hell of a lot, Row, if you have any to spare. Let me know, yeah?”
I ring off to answer Rae’s earlier question. “They aren’t actually my tents. Saying that is just force of habit.”
“Because?”
“Because I used to run a camping business. Glamping. Pretty bell tents with real beds for the adults. Woodland adventure sessions for their children. That was the best part.”
“Was?”
“I couldn’t justify sinking more cash into a gig that was only busy every summer.” Not with three little sisters who have growth spurts year-round. “So my friends bought all but one of them from me.”
